Thursday, August 16, 2007
GO GREEN GO METRO
after exiting the bus and waving to a woman
seated by a rear side window, i glance at
the intersection then look up at a street sign
and realize i've gotten off at the wrong stop.
briefly irritated i walk northward up
the boulevard.
needing to take a wee, every building
passed is observed for a possible restroom.
nothing. several blocks on i come to
a long alleyway which i enter and locate
a discrete spot to relieve myself
returning to the boulevard i continue to
a metrorail station and descend to the platform.
the metro runs a distance between the left
and right lanes of the 605 freeway and cars by
the hundreds speed in both directions
a northbound train arrives and a few passengers
step off. minutes later the southbound pulls in.
i take a window seat. there are several other riders
nearby and three stations on a man using a cellphone
enters and sits a short distance behind me
i can easily hear him and the sound of his voice
gradually reminds me of a woman i know.
the accent a barely discernible twang thats maybe
one generation removed from rural kansas,
where the reminded of woman is from
he discusses a recent bike accident. there are pain
and financial issues. a best friend whose judgement
is trusted has offered alternative treatment advice.
yoga. he was in the marines corps
the metrorail makes its way towards union station.
overhear him say he's never dated a white girl.
a suprise. isn't he white? raising my head a bit i
listen closely to his voice. its speech pattern, tonality
and his word choice. could he be asian? for a moment
i consider looking at him. no. that's too easy
he mentions going out with a couple of filipinas.
they were cool. again i think of looking at him.
there's one more stop, chinatown, before reaching
the terminal. i'll look if he gets up at china station.
he doesn't, but does continue the conversation
with talk of "hooking up" later for beers at
a bar in little tokyo
the train slowly crosses the east macy street bridge
and eases to a halt. there's an announcement
that this is union station, the last stop and please
collect all bags and packages before leaving.
i slide over to the aisle seat, stand, walk to
the open door and while exiting glance at the man
with the phone. i was right from the beginning
the single stairway leading down to
the main concourse from the rail platform
is crowded. today's newspaper sports pages
lay discarded on a nearby blue metal bench.
i sit and read about the nba playoff games
the lakers lost
after exiting the bus and waving to a woman
seated by a rear side window, i glance at
the intersection then look up at a street sign
and realize i've gotten off at the wrong stop.
briefly irritated i walk northward up
the boulevard.
needing to take a wee, every building
passed is observed for a possible restroom.
nothing. several blocks on i come to
a long alleyway which i enter and locate
a discrete spot to relieve myself
returning to the boulevard i continue to
a metrorail station and descend to the platform.
the metro runs a distance between the left
and right lanes of the 605 freeway and cars by
the hundreds speed in both directions
a northbound train arrives and a few passengers
step off. minutes later the southbound pulls in.
i take a window seat. there are several other riders
nearby and three stations on a man using a cellphone
enters and sits a short distance behind me
i can easily hear him and the sound of his voice
gradually reminds me of a woman i know.
the accent a barely discernible twang thats maybe
one generation removed from rural kansas,
where the reminded of woman is from
he discusses a recent bike accident. there are pain
and financial issues. a best friend whose judgement
is trusted has offered alternative treatment advice.
yoga. he was in the marines corps
the metrorail makes its way towards union station.
overhear him say he's never dated a white girl.
a suprise. isn't he white? raising my head a bit i
listen closely to his voice. its speech pattern, tonality
and his word choice. could he be asian? for a moment
i consider looking at him. no. that's too easy
he mentions going out with a couple of filipinas.
they were cool. again i think of looking at him.
there's one more stop, chinatown, before reaching
the terminal. i'll look if he gets up at china station.
he doesn't, but does continue the conversation
with talk of "hooking up" later for beers at
a bar in little tokyo
the train slowly crosses the east macy street bridge
and eases to a halt. there's an announcement
that this is union station, the last stop and please
collect all bags and packages before leaving.
i slide over to the aisle seat, stand, walk to
the open door and while exiting glance at the man
with the phone. i was right from the beginning
the single stairway leading down to
the main concourse from the rail platform
is crowded. today's newspaper sports pages
lay discarded on a nearby blue metal bench.
i sit and read about the nba playoff games
the lakers lost
# posted by scotty @ 10:35 AM 
